What the Notes Say
by bompeii
Summary: Phil finds him at the bridge. He's not standing on the railing with arms outstretched, like one would imagine. He's not even near the edge... A short one-shot from a High School!Avengers universe I'm working on. Featuring sad!Tony and protective!Coulson.


_A/N: This is a one-shot set in a High School!Avengers universe idea I had. Tony is thirteen. Phil is an adult, and is the guardian to Clint and Natasha, who are only mentioned in this fic._

 _Will probably write more in this universe later. For now, have some sad!Tony feels._

* * *

Phil finds him at the bridge.

He's not standing on the railing with arms outstretched, like one would imagine. He's not even near the edge. Instead, Tony is curled up on the ground in the center of the walkway, his hood up and his head between his knees. Anyone other than Phil wouldn't have recognized him. They'd have thought he was some homeless kid. There are enough of those to go around these days.

His shoulders are shaking as Phil approaches, slowly but steadily. They tense when he stops a few feet away, but he doesn't lift his head up until Phil speaks.

"Did you see the sunset from here?" Phil asks casually, hiding all inflection from his voice. "I caught a glimpse of it on the drive over. Made me wish I had a camera."

Tony peeks his eyes out from beneath his hood. His cheeks are shiny in the fresh moonlight of the evening. "I hadn't noticed," he mumbles, sniffing discreetly and shuffling his feet.

Phil drops down beside him and sits a few inches away, his attention never wavering from the boy. Tony's hands are quivering, clasped around each other. After a moment, he takes his sleeve and wipes any moisture off of his face, trying to hide what he had done – to hide what he was feeling.

It's a minute of silence, of regaining composure, of staring up at the clouds in the dark blue sky before Phil speaks again.

"We found your notes, Tony."

Tony flinches, but doesn't hide his face again. "Yeah," he says, taking a shaky breath. "I thought you might. Who was it? Clint?"

"Natasha."

"Figures."

"I'd like to know why," Phil implores, looking directly at Tony now rather than the night sky. "You haven't been yourself lately, but you won't talk to anyone about it."

"What makes you think tonight is any different?" Tony huffs, but it's mild compared to the snarl he's used before.

"Because we're here," Phil points out. "Because you're on this bridge, and I guarantee you were thinking of doing something tonight that would upset a lot of people."

Tony snorts derisively. His lower lip trembles, eyes glistening. "A lot of people. Right."

Phil waits, watching fixedly. Tony focuses on his breathing for a little while, his knuckles going white around the chain. He refuses to look back at Phil when he speaks.

"There was only one person," he says. His voice is a quiet whisper, but the night is so still that Phil hears him perfectly. "One person in my life that gave a shit about me. It certainly wasn't Dad. No fucking way. I've never been good enough for him, and he's never hesitated to let me know that. Wasn't Mom, either. She lost interest in being a parent when I was six. It was only ever Jarvis, and now he's fucking gone, and I… I don't…"

Tony breaks off and Phil closes his eyes with an inward sigh. "How long?" he asks.

"Last Thursday," Tony answers, his breaths coming faster. "He had a heart attack in the kitchen. Fuck, I can never go in there again. Dad said … he told me with this blank stare and made some comment about finding a replacement butler as soon as possible. He doesn't care at all. About Jarvis, or me, or anyone else."

Tony was crying again, covering his face with his hands so Phil wouldn't see.

"Hey," Phil shushes, wrapping an arm around the teen and pulling him close. "Hey, Tony, it's alright. It's okay to cry about this. It looks like you and Jarvis were really close. It makes sense why you'd be upset."

The boy barks out a wet laugh. "I'm not allowed to cry. Stark men don't cry. It shows weakness." It was said robotically, a phrase drilled into his mind over and over again.

"Well, that's bullshit," Phil declares, and Tony laughs again, though this time in surprise.

"Jarvis always said the same. He … he was there for me the way Mom and Dad never were. He was more of a father to me than Howard ever was. He herded me away whenever Dad had a bad night and got drunk, and he took time out of his day to ask what I was making in my room. He was just … genuine, in a way nobody else was around me. I…" Tony sniffs heavily, and a shiver racks his body. "I've felt this way before, a couple of times. With the … what the notes say…"

Phil doesn't react beyond a tightening grip on Tony's shoulder, hugging him closer. "How old were you?"

"I was eight, the first time. I had this epiphany, I guess. I saw at school how the other kids and parents interacted, and I realized that neither of mine acted that way. Neither of them liked me, so I'd concluded that neither loved me, either. I got this idea in my head, that I wasn't planned. I've heard other kids talk about it – accidental children, and all of that. I figured that was me. That was what I was. Just a fucking accident that could never live up to expectations, because I was never expected in the first place."

"Jesus," Phil mutters, but Tony doesn't seem to hear. His voice has gone flat, a deadened tone. He stares at his shoes with a mournful look.

"So I decided to … leave, then. If I wasn't wanted, then hell, I'd just go back to where I came from. I practiced writing some notes to leave behind, but they were all bullshit, so I threw them out. Jarvis found them while he was cleaning up. He went and found me in my bathroom, trying to tie a noose out of the cords from the television."

Phil bites the inside of his cheek at the image. Tony was only eight years old when he felt this way. No child should ever go through that.

"Jarvis is the only reason I made it this far," Tony confesses in a whisper. His face crumples. "All I could think of when I was tying those wires was how Dad would be yelling at me for not knowing the proper knot to use. I couldn't figure it out and I was getting so frustrated, but I didn't have any rope and I'd never tried it before, but I should've finished it faster–"

"Hey, look at me," Phil interrupts, turning around and dipping his head to meet Tony's eyes. "It's a good thing you didn't figure it out faster. Because then Jarvis would have been too late and you wouldn't be here now, and I would _hate_ that. You hear me? I would be devastated if you weren't in my life, Tony. Clint and Natasha both care about you so much, and so do I. We need you."

"How am I supposed to believe you?" Tony says. "It took me two years to believe Jarvis would never leave me, but now he's gone and I'm on my own! How do I know the same won't happen with you?"

"I guess I'll have to prove it to you," Phil says, and it comes out so easily and with unguarded sincerity. Tony sucks in a heavy breath, almost a sob, and tucks his face into Phil's shirt as the man hugs him close, wrapping both arms around his back and hushing words of comfort into his hair.

Phil was going to have a long talk with Howard and Maria Stark after this.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _I have not uploaded anything in a while as a fanfic. But I'm trying to get back into writing, and I thought posting a short drabble about a larger story idea I had would get my gears turning faster and the motivational juices flowing._

 _Reviews are welcome!_


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